


Portrait of Solitude

by FriendlyNonMurdering



Series: McGenji Week 2017 [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angry cyborg boi, Angst, Blackwatch Era, Jesse's just trying to help, M/M, McGenji Week 2017, Noodle Dragons, that tag might be my favorite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 15:39:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12867708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FriendlyNonMurdering/pseuds/FriendlyNonMurdering
Summary: Day Four:Steel/Soul--Knowing that the dragon had been so comfortable with Jesse made Genji’s brain sputter for answers. It had only been that way with family before.What did it say about their—not—relationship, that Jesse could pet and soothe Genji’s dragon?Genji shook the thoughts from his head. That was something to ponder another day. He didn’t have the energy to go in-depth with the delicacy of souls and dragons and other people interacting with and calming said souls and dragons.“Did my dragon—” Genji cut himself off. “Did I hurt you? When we fought?”





	Portrait of Solitude

**Author's Note:**

> I'll maybe try to get Sun/Snow up another day? Also people naming the dragons after food is _the_ greatest thing and I will gladly hop on board that train (also also I really like mochi it's the best)

The first memory Genji had of Mochi was from when he was five.

He had been climbing one of the sakura trees in the yard, desperate to see the world outside of the Shimada Castle. It was true, he could see a great expanse of Hanamura from inside the castle, but it was never enough for him to be truly satisfied. So what better option was there than to climb up and get out all on his own?

If anyone knew—especially Hanzo or their mother—Genji would never be left to his own devices again. He, technically, had a caretaker since no one in the family had free time that day to watch him. She had been easy enough to escape from, though. And it always made Genji happy to worm out of the caretaker’s line of sight and go off and get into all sorts of trouble. He’d considered visiting Hanzo, but he knew that his older brother was probably in classes with his tutor or training in the dojo and Hanzo was the worst when it came to turning Genji in when he was getting into trouble.

Genji’s second option had been to see if his father had free time. He was never one to turn away Genji, and he wouldn’t get too angry about Genji getting away from his babysitters. If anything, it made Sojiro proud that his son was already such a good ninja. Genji didn’t know if it was as much to do with his underdeveloped skills or because the caretakers were oblivious. Unfortunately, Sojiro hadn’t been in his office, and the guards were already searching for Genji by the time he made it down to the meeting room where his father usually was. 

So Genji turned to the gardens.

He found the biggest tree that he could find and scrambled up with the single-minded goal of getting outside and running free.

There was one tree that he had been eyeing up for about a month. It had enough branches for him to haul himself up, and it was strong. There were even branches that stuck out beyond the walls and would be a _perfect_ way for him to get up and over and out into the city streets. Maybe the owner of Rikimaru would give Genji some ramen if he showed up! Or he could visit the arcade! He had never been to either place on his own before, but both owners knew the Shimada family, and already knew Genji very well.

Although, Genji pondered as he scrambled up the sakura tree into the bright green leaves, maybe one of the owners would turn him into his family for slipping out. Genji glanced down at his feet as he moved through the tree branches, easily sliding from one to the next. He could pass up ramen and video games if it meant that he would have a few more hours of sweet, blissful freedom.

Genji crawled his way onto the branch that stretched the farthest out into over the wall and into the street. The black pavement stared up at Genji, looking suddenly much farther away than he had initially thought.

Genji’s little hands wrapped tight around the sturdy branch, fear claiming him for the briefest of moments. What had he been _thinking_?

He stared at the ground, wide-eyed and gaping for a long time.

“Genji!” a woman called. She was getting very close to Genji’s tree.

Genji glanced over his shoulder. There were his caretaker and a guard across the yard. The guard was squinting and had a hand up to block out the glaring afternoon sun. He leaned forward, and Genji knew that he was caught. People only looked like that when they were trying to figure out if what they were seeing was _really_ what they were seeing. For example, the youngest Shimada heir fifteen feet up in a tree.

His caretaker stretched onto her tippy toes to spot what the guard was examining closely.

Genji gulped when he looked back at the street below him.

“Genji!” his caretaker yelled. She sounded more frantic than before.

It was now or never.

Genji could hear the footsteps thundering toward him. His tree shook as a guard made to climb up after him.

Genji dropped from his branch.

He yelped when he landed hard on his feet. His little knees gave out from the shock that went straight through the soles of his shoes and to the top of his skull. Genji caught himself on hands and knees, scraping both to Hell and back. 

The shock kept Genji still for a very long time. When the pain began to register in his hands and knees, the tears followed.

Genji choked on his breaths as he lifted his shaky hands from the pavement. Fat drops of blood welled from his palms, dripping down and gathering along the edges of his hands. Genji sniffled as he slowly stood upright, looking down at his knees and seeing the same results. 

And that wasn’t even half as bad as the pain in his elbows and ankles. Those throbbed with a vengeance, making every step Genji took away from the castle wall and farther into the street unsteady and wobbly.

Genji wasn’t sure how long he walked for, but by the time he found a nice hiding place to settle into, he could hear what sounded like the _entire_ staff searching up and down the streets for him. Genji tucked himself between two crates and hunkered down, unwilling to be found. Shame burned in his cheeks, embarrassed more than anything that he had fallen and that it had hurt so much.

Genji waited and waited between his crates until darkness fell upon the city. He could still hear guards scrambling around and looking for him. Once or twice, he’d heard tapping along the rooves of surrounding buildings, at first in a small circle, and then wider and wider as time went on. Genji knew it was probably Hanzo, looking for him from up above.

Part of Genji wanted to crawl out of his hiding place and wail for his brother, but the other, more stubborn part, knew that it would only end with him being punished for running away and scraping himself. Plus, his shorts had ripped, and his shoes were all grimy. The seat of his pants was soaked through with dirt and mud, and he’d wiped more than a little blood on his shirt over the gray family crest. His mother was going to be _furious_ about him ruining his clothes.

When the tapping of—most likely—Hanzo’s shoes faded once more, Genji peered out from his hiding place. He glanced down both sides of the alleyway before carefully moving out of his spot. There were no guards around, and the frantic calling of his name sounded far away. Genji sniffed loudly as he exited the alleyway, keeping an eye out for the guards or Hanzo. All he had to do was get back to Shimada Castle and make it into his bedroom without being caught. That way, everyone would think he had been home the whole time. It was a perfect plan.

Only, Genji had never been outside of the castle on his own before.

When he was holding onto Sojiro’s or Hanzo’s hand, the city seemed much smaller, and he thought he knew exactly where he was going. On his own, Genji moved slowly, and without any idea of where he was going. Genji worried his bottom lip between his teeth. He was starting to get really thirsty, and his belly was rumbling loudly.

Rikimaru! 

He _for sure_ knew where Rikimaru was. He could _definitely_ make it there all on his own. And the shop was right next to the castle. He would stop for ramen, and maybe dessert, and then head back. If he were so close to home, the owner would let Genji’s escapade slide. Right?

Genji followed his nose towards the best-smelling store that he could find. Only, this area was unfamiliar to him. The shop that he stopped in front of was _not_ Rikimaru, but it smelled delicious all the same. 

Genji had an uneasy feeling in his stomach, but he ignored it and ducked into the shop. The heavenly smell made his belly growl even louder than before. Genji barely noticed the odd stares that were sent his way as he trotted up to the bar and heaved himself up onto one of the stools.

The cook arched an eyebrow high at Genji.

“Can I help you?” the man asked, skeptical.

“Ramen!” Genji demanded, grinning wide at the prospect of food.

The man huffed. “You got money for that?”

Genji shrank. “No,” he whispered. “But my dad—”

“Yeah? And where’s your Dad?” 

“At home,” Genji mumbled. “I’m by myself. I’m really hungry.”

The cook scoffed. “If you’re not going to pay, then you can get out. Lots of people are hungry, but they have money.”

Indignance roiled in Genji’s blood. Who was this guy to tell him no? Genji was a Shimada; he got whatever he wanted—Genji glanced down at his shirt, ready to point out the two dragons on it. The faded clan symbol was smeared with dirt and dried blood. His arms were just as messy, and so was everything else about him. He did not look like a Shimada at all.

“Hold on, Hisao,” a man behind Genji said. Genji turned to look at him, a teeny part of him hoping that he was a guard. But Genji did not recognize the man. “I’ll buy him a bowl of ramen.”

“Really?” Genji asked, eyes going wide. Suddenly, his wariness was replaced by total adoration. 

The man smiled at Genji. “Sure thing. Why don’t you join my friend and me over there?” the man asked, gesturing to a table toward the center of the shop.

Genji nodded and eagerly followed the man to his table. He scrambled up onto the free chair. Not long after, a bowl of ramen was set down in front of Genji. He slurped it down greedily, oblivious to the two men that were whispering to each other with wide smirks on their faces.

After Genji finished his ramen with a delighted “ _Ahhh_!”, the two men stood. The first one that bought Genji’s ramen offered a hand to Genji. Genji was wary, eyeing the hand like it might jump out and bite him, but the man’s smile was friendly.

“You’re the lost Shimada boy, right?” the man asked.

Genji nodded eagerly.

“Your family has been looking for you all day; I’m sure they’re worried sick. We know where Shimada Castle is, we’ll take you there, okay?”

Genji nodded even more eagerly. He easily took the man’s hand and hopped down from the chair. The two men guided Genji through the streets, but he wasn’t quite sure that the area was looking familiar to him.

When they led Genji into an alley, his skin prickled. He tried to draw his hand away from the man’s, but the grip on his fingers was tight.

“This isn’t Shimada Castle,” Genji whispered. He looked between the two men. Their smiles had long since gone, replaced by sneers.

“Really?” the first man asked. He looked around, feigning surprise. “No shit.”

Genji frowned. These men were starting to scare him.

“My brother,” Genji threatened weakly, without really knowing where he was going with it. “My brother is looking for me.”

The second man laughed. “And I’m sure he’ll pay a pretty penny to get you back, too.”

Every hair on Genji’s body stood up. He _hated_ the man’s tone. It made him feel vulnerable and helpless. Genji tightened his jaw to bite back any whimpers. Hanzo wouldn’t be scared of a situation like this. Hanzo would fight back.

Quick as a snake, Genji wormed his body closer to the man that was holding him and bit down on his arm with a ferocity that Genji didn’t know he was capable of. The man shouted and released Genji. 

Hanzo wouldn’t have gotten into this situation in the first place.

This was Genji’s mistake, and he needed to get out of it.

Genji stumbled over his feet, still incredibly sore from his fall, as he darted away from the men and toward the front of the alley. A scream was halfway to his mouth before a hand wrenched _tight_ in his hair, and dragged him back. Before he knew what was happening, Genji’s nose was smashed into the pavement under him. He broke out in sobs, willing the men behind him to…to… he wasn’t sure what he wanted them to do, but _die_ sounded about right. How dare they hurt him? How dare they make a fool of Genji Shimada? 

Energy prickled along Genji’s entire body, and it burned more than his bleeding nose and his swollen elbows and wrists. It made him feel sick as if something was stirring up his body from his guts and out.

Genji continued crying, blocking out the pain lighting his skin on fire and the horrified screams of the men behind him. The _roaring_ was what shook Genji from his paralyzed fear. He dared to peek over his shoulder, blinded by an all-encompassing green light. The source of it, a few feet away from Genji, burned his eyes, and he turned his head away from it to shield himself.

Genji trembled in horror when the growling began. It sounded like the mean dogs in movies and TV shows. A little idea wormed its way into the forefront of his thoughts that a dog would be better than the two men. He couldn’t hear them screaming anymore. Maybe the dog had chased them away.

Genji turned to look over his shoulder once more, no longer blinded by the green light. It lit up the alley but was not as painful as it had been a few moments ago. The growling grew louder, rumbling Genji’s insides and making his skin crawl. He glanced down at his arm, every hair was raised on end, and the nape of his neck was prickling.

He was stunned, the breath was stolen right out of his chest, to see a gigantic dragon, rather than a dog. While much bigger and far more ethereal than the dragons in the paintings and statues around the castle, this one looked just as fierce. Its tail lashed furiously from side to side, and its body was wound tight like a coil.

As fascinating as the dragon was, Genji found his attention pulled elsewhere. The walls of the alleyway were painted with blood, dripping in bright crimson. Genji could feel some of it on the back of his shirt, and his ramen churned uneasily in his stomach. Then, Genji began to notice the body parts splattered at the mouth of the alley.

Whimpers worked their way out of Genji’s throat, accompanied by fearful, shuddering breaths. 

The green dragon whipped around. Its blazing, furious white eyes locked onto Genji’s tiny, trembling body. If he wasn’t mistaken, Genji saw those eyes and that massive face relax into something softer.

The dragon moved around in the alleyway easily, as if it weren’t the biggest thing Genji had ever seen in his entire five years of living. The dragon wiggled closer to Genji and was suddenly much smaller.

“Genji!” a familiar voice shouted.

The dragon, now only about the size of a ferret, perhaps a smidge bigger, wiggled closer to Genji. It set its front two paws on Genji’s legs, looking up at him with a chitter and a chirp as it titled its head. 

Genji realized vaguely that Hanzo was at the mouth of the alley, looking around with a horrified, stunned expression.

“Genji?” he whispered. “What did you do?”

Too focused on the friendly creature in front of him, Genji reached out and set his hand on the top of the dragon’s head. He was struck with a strange feeling, unable to place it but knowing it was somewhere between unnerving and comfortable—not much help to a five-year-old that wasn’t the best when it came to identifying new things. The little dragon shook with glee, its entire body wiggling back and forth excitedly. It squealed as Genji petted down the length of its spine, admiring the buzzing warmth that it offered, like petting a purring cat.

The dragon wiggled at Genji’s touch and looped around his arm to settle there for a moment. It nudged and nuzzled at his shoulder before looping around Genji’s shoulders and tucking its face under Genji’s chin. It chirruped and squeaked happily, tickling Genji’s neck with its tiny horns and fluffy mane.

Genji laughed, no longer preoccupied with the gore in front of him.

 

Jesse sat up with a gasp, grinning big at Genji. Genji averted his eyes from Jesse’s face. It wasn’t as though he told that story often. In fact, he never told that story. Nobody needed to know that part of his life. Those that did were no longer in his life. Genji had no idea what possessed him to tell Jesse. After all, now Jesse was just going to use it to make a big deal.

“Yer tellin’ me that you can summon a damned dragon, and you ain’t showed me yet?” Jesse guffawed.

Genji curled his shoulders inward, and pointedly fixed his gaze anywhere than on Jesse. He was thankful for the thick metal that covered the lower half of his face. The frown that sat heavy on his lips was unavoidable. He _knew_ that he shouldn’t have told Jesse that story. Sure, Jesse was nice, but that was a part of Genji that he didn’t need to know. Knowing that there was more to Genji—namely a dragon soul that used to inhabit his body—gave Jesse more room to ask questions. The more questions Jesse asked, the more Genji would feel powerless to refuse, and it would only make Jesse closer to him.

Genji liked what they had. Not quite friends, definitely _not_ lovers. Something in between that kept Jesse satisfied and happy, and Genji sated and distracted from the ever-deepening pit of self-loathing in his gut. 

“Yes,” Genji agreed after a long time. He flicked his eyes to Jesse, hoping that the unease in his thoughts hadn’t translated into his voice.

Jesse was still grinning at Genji. Genji wanted to smack that look right off his face. He turned his eyes away once more and curled his flesh fingers into a tight fist. Now wasn’t the time to be picking fights. Just because the story had made Jesse happy and Genji more miserable than ever didn’t mean that it was Jesse’s fault. It was Genji’s fault. It was always Genji’s fault.

A familiar burn settled in Genji’s blood. That entire day as a child had been his fault, too. It was just another prime example of how reckless Genji had always been. Just another mistake for Hanzo and the Clan to use against him.

“You gotta show me, Genj.”

Genji blinked slowly. He furrowed his eyebrows as the rage boiling in his chest dissipated in an instant. He almost couldn’t believe that he’d heard what Jesse said. It had taken him a long time to get used to not having ears, and not _technically_ hearing things. Maybe it was a malfunction.

Jesse, seemingly spurred on by Genji’s silence, grabbed at Genji’s bicep and tugged his arm.

“C’mon,” Jesse said. “You can still do it, right?”

Genji knew that Jesse didn’t mean it to hurt, but it did. He tightened his fist, digging his nails painfully into the meat of his palm. He reached out mentally, searching for Mochi’s presence that had once been so strong. What had, a long time ago, been a bright fire in Genji’s body was now only the weakest of sparks. 

His body, once host to two souls, now barely had room for Genji’s. Genji’s left arm began to tremble. He was doing his best to reel in his temper, but it wasn’t the easiest thing to do. He hadn’t reached for Mochi in a while. Why was he even mildly surprised that the dragon had abandoned Genji? It vanished without a trace _that_ night when Genji needed it most. Why would it be back now?

Genji knew that he should have told the truth. It sat sourly on the back of his tongue. But there was still some part of him, however small it might have been, that didn’t want to admit that Mochi was gone forever. 

“Yes,” Genji answered.

If Jesse was bothered by Genji’s long pauses and short answers, he didn’t say anything about it. He nudged at Genji’s side with his elbow, eyebrows raised expectantly. Genji turned a fierce glare onto Jesse and jerked his body away from the cowboy. Jesse didn’t say anything about that, either, but Genji saw the mildly annoyed look that graced his stupidly handsome features.

“Well? Show me,” Jesse said. He pursed his lips, thinking better of his words after they were out of his mouth. “I mean if ya wanna. Y’ain’t gotta or nothin’.”

Genji frantically searched for Mochi once more, but there was nothing to be found. He poked at the spark inside him, but he got no response. He used to be able to summon Mochi so easily. When he was lonely, or when he just needed something warm to cuddle with that wasn’t after his money or sex. Not that Genji usually minded that, but sometimes it was nice to break away from all that. 

Genji prodded and prodded at the spark until defeat coursed through him. The disappointment didn’t stay for long, quickly replaced by frustration. If that’s how it was going to be, then _fine_.

“Let’s fight,” Genji said.

Jesse looked taken aback. Both his eyebrows shot up to his hairline in surprise. “Fight? What for?” he gawked.

Genji pushed himself to stand, ignoring the way Jesse floundered without Genji’s body to lean against. Genji glanced down at Jesse, tilting his head at him.

“You wanted to see a dragon, did you not?” Genji asked.

Jesse nodded dumbly.

“Then we will have to fight,” Genji said.

Jesse blinked up at Genji owlishly but recovered in record time. He hopped to his feet, hot on Genji’s trail as the cyborg blazed a path through the halls and to the training floor.

Genji walked quickly, nearly running, as he clenched his fists hard at his sides. If Mochi wouldn’t respond to him when Genji was amicable, then Genji would stop being amicable. He knew that spark of Mochi’s spirit was in there, and Genji was going to drag it out by force. Mochi’s cowardice didn’t give it a reason to hide away and not respond to Genji. Couldn’t it tell that Genji was in more pain than ever before in his life?

It didn’t matter.

Genji was in control. Not some stupid dragon that was too pathetic to show itself. 

Less than five minutes later, Genji shifted his feet slowly across the floor of the sparring arena. Jesse was across from him, looking slightly worried from the way Genji glared at him. Genji flicked his wrist back and forth, playing with the throwing stars in his arm. If Jesse thought Genji was going to take it easy on him, he was dead wrong. Jesse looked like he knew it. He was decked out in thick padding and had a light layer of armor over that. 

Genji only hoped that Jesse wasn’t going to take it easy on him, either.

If Genji was going to drag Mochi out kicking and screaming, then he needed a good outlet for it.

Genji made the first move. He leaped into the air and flicked three stars in a vertical line at Jesse. Jesse easily dodged, rolling out of the way of Genji’s attack. He had Peacekeeper up in no time, firing at Genji’s legs when he landed. Genji smoothly dodged the obvious attack and launched another volley of throwing stars in Jesse’s direction.

The battle went by in a blur. The angrier and more frustrated Genji became, the hotter the spark burned inside his body. Jesse was covered in scrapes from close calls with Genji’s throwing stars and even _closer_ calls when Genji whipped out his wakizashi and sent Jesse’s bullets straight back at him. Genji didn’t have the time to spare on being worried for Jesse’s health. If Jesse couldn’t keep up with him, then he didn’t deserve to be Genji’s partner.

Genji wasn’t much better. Jesse knew where each of Genji’s weak spots was and made sure to exploit them at every opportunity. His best shot was sent directly through Genji’s right shoulder—Angela was going to be _pissed_ —making Genji’s arm malfunction for far longer than Genji would have liked. Jesse, the bastard, had hit the fan inside Genji’s shoulder dead-on. He could feel the mechanics in his arm overheating as the battle went on, threatening to leave him defenseless. Genji narrowed his eyes at Jesse. 

The only good thing about the fight, other than getting to fight, which was always a bonus for Genji, was that Mochi’s spark was becoming a roaring flame. With each second, it burned hotter inside of Genji, like that day as a child, dangerously close to taking over his body.

Genji knew that he should have been worried about releasing a dragon on Jesse. He’d seen Mochi tear apart more than a few opponents, and it was never pretty.

Jesse had been the one who pressed Genji to see the dragon.

Mochi was the one who wouldn’t _fucking listen_ to Genji.

The energy in Genji’s body sparked in an entirely new way. The last time he had summoned Mochi had been when he was still a human being. This time around, it was much different. The mechanics in his body cracked and hissed with the heat, unsure of how to handle the situation. 

“ _Ryuujin no ken wo kurae_!” The words came easily out of Genji’s mouth, but with far more aggression than he was used to. If Mochi didn’t make an appearance, Genji was going to make a fool of himself. If that _damned dragon_ didn’t show its _cowardly face_ , Genji didn’t know what he was going to do. 

The tangible fury that tore itself from Genji’s body _hurt_. Everything burned like an open flame, consuming Genji’s body from top to bottom. Shudders wracked through him as he swung his blade, forcing the dragon to bend to his will.

All Genji could think, seeing the fiery red dragon, was that he was almost grateful that Mochi was still around. There was something still normal about him.

The dragon that swept around, following Genji as he moved, looked nothing like Mochi, though. It was blood red, and as it moved, it dropped scales and shed clumps of its raggedy mane. It foamed at the mouth, and it had lost at least five toes and had neither of its antler-like horns. 

Across the sparring arena, Jesse’s eyes flew open at the sight of the monster swirling around Genji. He pointed Peacekeeper at the dragon, despite knowing that it wouldn’t do anything. What was a bullet to a gigantic, translucent dragon?

Genji turned Mochi onto Jesse, blinded by the furious fire in his body. The man across from him wasn’t a Shimada—wasn’t _Hanzo_ —but his suffering would make Genji feel better all the same. 

He was going to miss Jesse.

But something was wrong.

Genji’s arms began to shake, specifically his right. The metal workings rattled and stuttered, and then gave out. The fingers and joints locked stiff before falling completely limp. Genji’s panic soared as he stared at his useless fingers, his katana ripped away and falling to the ground. He tried desperately to get them to work again, but no matter what he did, his entire right arm was unresponsive.

A moment of terror later, and the fans on Genji’s hips screamed to a halt. His body collapsed to the ground. Genji could barely keep himself up on his left arm, gasping frantically for air that no longer served a purpose to him.

Far away from him, Genji clearly saw Jesse mouth “ _holy fuck_ ” before his attention turned to Genji. He screamed Genji’s name, but the noise was faint behind Mochi’s roaring. Genji briefly wondered how Jesse was still alive. The bloody Mochi had been so close to him. No one survived that kind of treatment.

It was then that Genji realized the coiling dragon was spiraling right for him, filled with just as much hatred toward Genji that he had for himself.

Genji collapsed onto his face—thankful for the metal cupping his jaw that broke his fall—exhausted. 

If Mochi was going to kill him, he deserved it.

It served him right.

 

The last memory Genji had of Mochi was _that_ night.

Everything hurt. Genji couldn’t wade through the pain for long enough to think straight. He knew that the arm across the way was his and that the hunk of meat connected to his hip might have been a leg at some point. Hell, it might have been his leg, but it was impossible to tell.

Genji sobbed weakly. Even that hurt. His lungs were shredded to bits, and his eyes were already burning so much from unshed tears. Hanzo limped away from him, bloody and chipped katana held loosely in his fingers. 

Genji choked on a whimper at the heat that pooled in his palm. He rolled his head numbly to the left, and his eyes blurred in and out of focus at the green coil in his palm.

“Mochi?” Genji breathed, followed by a wracked exhale, fraught with tears scorching down his cheeks. 

The dragon squeaked softly.

Genji had never seen Mochi so tiny. Its entire body fit in the center of Genji’s palm, and it didn’t have the strength to lift its head from where it was curled in on itself.

With the last dregs of his strength, Genji pulled his hand close to his body. Fruitlessly, he shielded Mochi against his chest. The dragon chirped at him softly. 

It fizzled in Genji’s hand.

And vanished.

 

Genji woke to a tight feeling in his gut. He groaned and furrowed his eyebrows. His head was pounding incessantly with one of the worst headaches he’d ever had. He faintly recalled the fight with Jesse and the bloodied dragon that might have been Mochi at one point.

There was chirping to Genji’s left. He groaned again and shifted his head in that direction, though he didn’t have the strength or the will to open his eyes.

The chirping turned into ferocious hissing.

“Hey, hey now,” Jesse cooed. Even half-asleep and dazed, Genji could recognize that stupid Southern drawl. “No need ta ruffle yer feathers at ‘im, he’s hurtin’, too.”

The hissing mellowed out into a soft grumbling, caught between a purr and a growl.

“Jesse?” Genji croaked. What he wouldn’t give for a glass of water. Genji peeled his eyes open, taking in the sight of Jesse with a floppy green snake draped over his shoulders.

“Hey, sugar,” Jesse greeted softly. He reached out, much to the frustration of the creature on his shoulders that made sure to make a ruckus, and set his hand on Genji’s arm. “Y’been out for a while. Feelin’ any better?”

Genji shook his head. “Not really,” he muttered.

Genji furrowed his eyebrows at the upset snake on Jesse’s shoulders. It dug its claws into Jesse’s shoulder, making Jesse wince and turn to scritch reassuringly under its chin. Not a snake. A dragon.

“Mochi?” Genji whispered. He couldn’t believe it. Where had it been when Genji needed it earlier?

Jesse nodded proudly. He reached up to disentangle the dragon from his shoulders, but it wormed and wiggled until it was back where it wanted to be. Genji noticed with a pang of sharp hurt that that place was as far away from Genji as Mochi could get.

“Yeah,” Jesse agreed, letting Mochi settle once more on his shoulders. “Me’n’ Moch been hangin’ out while you were snoozin’,” he explained. “Pretty friendly little thing.” Jesse reached up, offering the back of his hand to Mochi, who nuzzled at him affectionately. It reminded Genji of when Mochi used to do the same to him. “Not at all like the big thing you summoned earlier.”

Genji nodded slowly. He pushed himself up against what he realized was a hospital bed, taking a look at his body. He didn’t look worse for wear, and he still had a body at all. Mochi must have vanished when Genji passed out. Lucky for him.

As if Genji deserved luck.

He would have been happier if Mochi had evaporated his body. 

“Couldn’t you have just called it like this?” Jesse asked, turning his attention back to Genji. He let an easy smirk grace his lips. “Or did you wanna show off?”

Genji curled his fingers into the sheets. Under the pressure of his right hand, the sheets began to rip. 

“Why ain’t you called Moch in battle before? Bet it coulda saved our asses more’n once.”

_Shut up_.

“Reyes’s been dyin’ to talk to you. Better let him know yer up.”

_Shut. Up_.

“This is huge, Genj. I mean, we knew you were powerful ‘n’ all, but this’s a whole ‘nother level.”

“Shut. UP!”

Mochi began to snarl and hiss.

Genji glared daggers at his knees under the bedsheets, thankful that Jesse had heard his silent screams.

“Y’ain’t gotta get fuckin’ pissy with me,” Jesse grumbled. “Coulda told me to can it, but you didn’t hafta shout.”

Genji’s eyes snapped up. Cold dread raced through his body. He turned to look at Jesse, who had leaned back in his chair. He crossed his thick arms over his chest, glaring at Genji. Genji shrank under the look. He didn’t know how Jesse managed to stay with Genji when glaring was all Genji offered him. Seeing Jesse angry made Genji’s skin crawl with regret.

“I am sorry,” Genji breathed. “I…I did not mean to say that out loud. Or shout at you.”

Jesse looked Genji over, settling for a long time on the cyborg’s face. He kept it pointedly turned away from Jesse, shameful and regretting his outburst.

“Awright,” Jesse drawled. “Yer forgiven. But you better fork up an explanation.”

Genji rolled his eyes. “Of _what_ , Jesse?” 

Jesse grumbled under his breath in Spanish as he looked away from Genji.

The silence, maintained even by Mochi, was awkward and thick. Genji could probably scoop a handful of the lingering tension from the air. Neither of them, both at stubborn odds, knew what to say. With every heartbeat, Genji could sense both of them digging their heels in.

“Mochi has not been with me since I fought Hanzo,” Genji said.

He cleared his throat, more than a little embarrassed by the nerves coming through in his voice. He watched Jesse from the corners of his eyes, as the cowboy turned to face him again. His posture relaxed. In return, Genji shifted on the bed to face Jesse. Mochi bristled.

“And today I was… frustrated,” Genji continued.

Jesse snorted. “I’ll say,” he agreed.

Genji shot him a withering glare. “I was frustrated because I could not find Mochi.” Jesse’s brows furrowed. Genji rubbed self-consciously at his jaw. “It is… hard to explain,” he said. “I was once very close with Mochi. But that changed.”

“Why’s that? Cuzza Hanzo?” Jesse asked. Mochi chirped, growling a little at the name.

“Yes,” Genji muttered. He focused his gaze on Mochi. Mochi gazed back at him. As Genji stewed on the memories and the hurt feelings, Mochi’s scales shuddered and began to turn red.

“Mochi was not there when I needed it most,” Genji growled. “It was scared and weak, and abandoned me that night,” he accused. “And now, because of that, _look at me_ ,” he hissed.

Mochi hissed back. It shuddered nonstop, drawing Jesse’s attention as the green scales flaked away and were replaced with crimson ones.

“Hey, now,” Jesse soothed.

He reached up with one hand to stroke Mochi, but Genji recognized the look in Mochi’s eyes as the same spiteful look from in the sparring arena. Before Jesse’s hand could get much closer, Mochi snarled and snapped its head down, digging its fangs into Jesse’s hand.

Jesse yelped, shook his hand, and exclaimed a sharp “ _Fuck_!”

Mochi shivered and vanished into thin air.

Genji simmered in his annoyance while Jesse held his hand close to his chest. 

“Y’ever stop to think that maybe Mochi’s so mad ‘cause yer mad all the time, too?” Jesse asked.

Genji snarled. “Do not _presume_ to know, cowboy—”

Jesse cut him off with a hand on Genji’s chest. It took him aback with a startled shout, giving Jesse just enough time to get his argument in.

“I ain’t _presumin’_ nothin’,” Jesse snapped. “Ya can’t say you ain’t always mad, ‘cause you are. I ain’t no saint, neither, but at least I ain’t takin’ it out on my partner.”

Genji wilted. He looked away from Jesse, but Jesse wasn’t about to let that slide. He grabbed Genji’s metal chin and forced the other agent to look at him. Genji found that, when face to face with Jesse who was ready to rant, he couldn’t look away from those brown eyes, alight with passion.

Jesse took a breath in, reeling himself in before he snapped and bit Genji’s head off. He could butt heads all day long, but Genji had tried to be calm for him earlier, so he needed to do the same for Genji. He released his breath slowly.

“You make it seem like Mochi’s part’a you,” Jesse said, to which Genji nodded. “And that thing was as sweet as could be ‘til you woke up. An’ it seemed like from yer story that Mochi had yer back for a long time.” Genji nodded again. “Don’t you think you should repay it?”

Genji furrowed his eyebrows. “I do not understand.”

Jesse sighed heavily through his nose. “Not like you ever went ta school with other kids so I wouldn’t expect you to know, but what yer doin’s called bullyin’.”

Genji snorted. He ripped his jaw away from Jesse’s hand. “I am not bullying a dragon.”

“Yes, you are!” Jesse argued. “Yer callin’ it a coward, sayin’ that it ain’t never done nothin’ good for you, but that li’l thing _loves_ you, Genji. It’s part of you, part of yer soul, ain’t it? You callin’ it, and yerself for that matter, cowardly and all other sorts’a nasty names isn’t doin’ no good.”

Genji hated that Jesse was right. Stabbing and poking at a weak dragon was only going to make it angrier. Mochi experienced the same fury as Genji, who directed it at himself and Mochi because there was no better target to blame for his sorry state than something weak like Mochi. Genji sighed and dropped his head.

Calloused fingers carded through his hair, petting down the sweaty locks and pushing them out of his face.

“Now, I’m not gonna say that you gotta fix this overnight,” Jesse continued. He nudged himself onto the bed next to Genji, taking up more than half of the space and forcing Genji to scoot closer in next to him. “But you gotta know that yer jus’ hurtin’ yerself more the longer you put it off.”

Genji grumbled indignantly, albeit weakly, as he fell back against Jesse’s chest. He wanted to be alone to stew over things, but he couldn’t deny that Jesse’s warm presence at his back was soothing. Knowing that Mochi had been so comfortable with Jesse made Genji’s brain sputter for answers. Mochi had only been that way with family before. Genji leaned into Jesse’s touches on his hair. What did it say about their—not—relationship, that Jesse could pet and soothe Genji’s dragon?

Genji shook the thoughts from his head. That was something to ponder another day. He didn’t have the energy to go in-depth with the delicacy of souls and dragons and other people interacting with and calming souls and dragons.

“Did Mochi—” Genji cut himself off. “Did I hurt you? When we fought?”

“No more’n a few scrapes an’ bruises,” Jesse said. Genji relaxed fully against his chest. “How ‘bout you, puddin’?”

“I am okay,” Genji answered.

It wasn’t the whole truth, he still had a million things to think about and square away, but it wasn’t a lie, either. Tucked against Jesse, he could pretend for the time being that his heart wasn’t doing flips at the implications of Jesse handling Mochi so easily.

Genji closed his eyes.

He’d think about that another day.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought in the comments? :D


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